Old Hat

Product Notes

Jones Falls began with songwriting revivals in the basement bedrooms of a burned out motel building. The fire damaged, drug addled fixture of north west Baltimore became home to the band through it's live in caretaker, security guard, maintenance man, and drummer, Rick Bonds. Bonds had worked at the motel on and off since his adolesence in the 70s. When the 3 building motel had a courtyard swimming pool and was often booked to capacity with celebrities attending horse races at the famous nearby Pimlico Racetrack. By the year 2000, the third building was last to fill with guests, and the band was allowed free reign of the 20 basement rooms as long as no guests were renting upstairs. A fire in 2001 made the upstairs of builting 3 uninhabitable, leaving the basement open to full time playing and recording. The motel, however, became more dispreputable and dangerous unitl it ceased operation, and the band moved out in 2002. Beneath the stray-bullet landscape of imploded housing projects and motel fire catacombs, please uncover the compressed remains of recording and performance techniques made obsolete. Thinking that the suffocating ghosts of urban childhood had been cleanly removed to the safety of oblivion, we are surprised to find that they now return loudly from exile, arriving in long yellow vehicles to inconvenience our perverse progress. The memory of safety tape buried under the debris of a collapsed technological tele-visual high-rise culture now leaks from our voices. Lacking time and resources to achieve Polish, the fantasy of imaginary audiences lingers as a stale background of bar-smoke and white-noise in the ear-ringing denial of the next morning. It may be necessary to overcome urges to compare in order to achieve objectivity. Operating under the assumption of an imperfect representational sonic delivery system may prolong clarity of altered perception. Please accept this low fidelity artifact as a token of alternative sincerity.

Credits

Jones Falls began with songwriting revivals in the basement bedrooms of a burned out motel building. The fire damaged, drug addled fixture of north west Baltimore became home to the band through it's live in caretaker, security guard, maintenance man, and drummer, Rick Bonds. Bonds had worked at the motel on and off since his adolesence in the 70s. When the 3 building motel had a courtyard swimming pool and was often booked to capacity with celebrities attending horse races at the famous nearby Pimlico Racetrack. By the year 2000, the third building was last to fill with guests, and the band was allowed free reign of the 20 basement rooms as long as no guests were renting upstairs. A fire in 2001 made the upstairs of builting 3 uninhabitable, leaving the basement open to full time playing and recording. The motel, however, became more dispreputable and dangerous unitl it ceased operation, and the band moved out in 2002. Beneath the stray-bullet landscape of imploded housing projects and motel fire catacombs, please uncover the compressed remains of recording and performance techniques made obsolete. Thinking that the suffocating ghosts of urban childhood had been cleanly removed to the safety of oblivion, we are surprised to find that they now return loudly from exile, arriving in long yellow vehicles to inconvenience our perverse progress. The memory of safety tape buried under the debris of a collapsed technological tele-visual high-rise culture now leaks from our voices. Lacking time and resources to achieve Polish, the fantasy of imaginary audiences lingers as a stale background of bar-smoke and white-noise in the ear-ringing denial of the next morning. It may be necessary to overcome urges to compare in order to achieve objectivity. Operating under the assumption of an imperfect representational sonic delivery system may prolong clarity of altered perception. Please accept this low fidelity artifact as a token of alternative sincerity.